


your hair was long when we first met

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: Batwoman (Comic), DCU (Comics), The Question (Comics)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, Ex Sex, F/F, Getting Back Together, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: Kate cups her face. Glove and mask blocking the warmth of her skin. Renee feels the heat anyway, feels it all across her cheeks and down into her stomach. “I know we shouldn’t do this,” Kate says before Renee can.“Which is why you are?” Renee’s laugh breaks because Kate is playingdirty,which is how she likes this woman with all her honor best.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from ["samson"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p62rfWxs6a8) by regina spektor. i may change it later, bit on the nose, haha.
> 
> look my life is a mess and i just...needed to write some lesbians. probably needs editing. forgive any typos. and don't worry about timelines, because i very obviously don't.
> 
>  **warning** for past alcoholism/alcohol abuse.

“Nice place for a conversation.” Even under the downpour and dark, Renee can see Kate’s red, red lips glide around her name before she swallows it back down.

Code names are about functionality for both of them, not so much an alter ego as part of an alternative uniform. 

She’s still a soldier at heart; Renee’s still a cop. 

Sometimes she rethinks what the two of them are doing, running around Gotham like they’re crazed capes, when they’re a different kind. 

They’re two of a kind.

“I’d ask you to come up,” Renee says, amusement infusing her voice, “but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”

She’d asked Kate to meet her close to her place to discuss a case Batwoman had just closed--Renee felt some clues from it could help her work as the Question. Batwoman caught up to her sooner than she expected, alley right outside her apartment.

“Wouldn’t I appreciate it?” The white lenses flatten out her expression, but the curve of that mouth is one that’s gotten Renee into trouble one too many times.

“Batwoman--” She’s glad for the mask that closes off her own face. “I asked you here on business,” she protests, level as she can.

“Unfinished business?” Kate suggests lowly.

And that’s not even right. They are finished. Have been finished. 

Renee’s reached out to Kate, Kate’s turned away, and for now, at least, she accepted that.

Let her friends talk about setting her up with a nice brunette (runner, dog person, loves crime shows, _Give her a shot, Renee. You’ve gotta get back out there, Renee_ ). Even toyed with making dating profiles--clicked away, embarrassed, before she could fill out the last of her details.

Kate cups her face. Glove and mask blocking the warmth of her skin. Renee feels the heat anyway, feels it all across her cheeks and down into her stomach. “I know we shouldn’t do this,” Kate says before Renee can. 

“Which is why you are?” Renee’s laugh breaks because Kate is playing _dirty,_ which is how she likes this woman with all her honor best. 

“Invite me up.” Kate, clever Kate, bypasses kissing her covered mouth, where the frustration would only be symbolic. Goes for the throat instead. Rough gloved finger pulling down her collar so she can kiss her neck.

Her lipstick’s waxy-smooth. Renee shakes under her. Femme’s always seemed somewhat performative on Kate, but damn if it can’t be sexy. Batwoman with hair like a tongue of fire, bending the world around her, bending Renee to her. 

And Renee responds. 

Her arm goes around her armored body. Grabbing a handful of her cape the color of blood, she holds Kate to her so fierce neither of them can turn away from each other. 

Nothing’s cooled, not by any cold around or between them.

Still those fireworks between them. Still the passion. 

Kate asked Renee to invite her up.

Renee says, “Stay the night.”

 

The sodden wig’s creating new waterways down Kate’s body and all over Renee’s (rented) carpet. 

“Stay on the doormat,” Renee tells her brusquely, making quick work of her soaked shoes and socks, throwing her hat and coat on a hook, before she runs off to her bathroom. She returns with towels. Leaning in, she wraps one around Kate’s shoulders and stares at her for a second.

Kate stares back. Draws back. Uncertainty has never suited her.

Reaching up again, Renee flattens the edges of the towel. Pulls playfully on the edges and brings them to touch over the Batwoman logo. Flips it over Kate’s head, mask and wig and all. Flirting, stupid flirting, because Renee doesn’t know how to stop when she’s ahead.

Kate narrows her eyes at her and then pulls the towel off, balls it up, and tosses it at Renee.

Snorting, relieved at the break in fumbling domesticity, she turns away for a second. 

Somehow for all the times they’ve been naked around each other, wandered shirtless through their briefly shared spaces together, touched and touched each other, taking off her mask to Kate’s face seems a step of intimacy too far. 

She sprays the solvent, quick with habit, and peels it down. The mask ends up on the coffee table and she ruffles her fingers through her short hair, mostly dry and fluffy thanks to her hat.

“I hate that hat,” Kate tells her.

Wounded, Renee whips around. Ah. Kate’s had the same idea. Black mask in her gloved hands. Would it have been too kinky to ask her to keep the mask on? Maybe next time. And she’s got her thinking of next times when _this_ time’s still on shaky ground, so Renee snipes back, “I see you finally found red boots without heels.”

“Don’t talk to me about costume problems.” Kate’s hands are on her belt, peeling it open from around her perfect hips, and Renee’s palms sweat. _They’re doing this._ “You just wear a suit.”

“First time I’ve heard you have a problem with me in a suit.” She focuses on wrestling her way out of her jacket, nothing really studied or provocative about it. Kate’s eyes flick up and _flash_ anyway, so she’s doing all right.

She’s still unsure why they’re undressing themselves and not each other. She can fix that, though. 

Stepping into her space, one foot between Kate’s, she gets her hands in that wig. It’s soaked, not exactly a sensual thing to help Kate out of it. Still, she’s happy to do it if it means they can share space again.

“Oh. Your hair.” Kate’s cut her hair so short she’s all cheekbones and killer green eyes.

Kate grimaces like it’s something she should be sorry for, puts a palm to the fuzz. “I know you--”

She used to love to press her face to the flood of her hair, tangle her fingers in it and skate her mouth down her soft face. “It’s great.” Renee pushes her hand out of the way and runs her palm all the way down to her nape, where the prickle of short hair against her calluses makes her spine tingle. “You look great.”

Kate’s grin shows teeth.

 

Renee’s on her elbows on the mattress, Kate’s on her knees between Renee’s thighs. Her white fingers follow the purplish path of old stretch-marks.

When they first fell into bed, fell into each other, Renee worried about her physical flaws, though she was never short on confidence with other partners. 

Kate was different. Kate was scarred, sure. Bullet-hole in her shoulder. Slash over her stomach. But her scars only made her more stunning, and Renee’s scars only made her feel more worn.

But they’re older now. Both tired. 

When Kate presses up against her to kiss her and Renee groans into her mouth, they don’t taste like cheap booze. Clear-headed their decision-making might not be. But they are serious. They are sober.

Parting Renee’s thighs, Kate dips her head to kiss the inside of her knee. “Kate…” Her fingers find her muscled shoulders, nails curling into her.

Winding an arm around Renee’s leg, soft breast pressing to her brown knee, Kate looks back at her for a moment of stillness. She’s down to sensible black underwear, which Renee finds she loves no less than her lacy things.

Renee swallows. “Yes.”

Kate’s hands grip her thighs. _Hoist_ her to her mouth. And what a mouth. She tastes her at first like the heat of Renee might burn her. 

She’s that hot, that slick. Kate’s always done this to her, and Kate knows it. 

Nuzzling her thighs, she licks up the wet smeared all up them. Her lipstick’s everywhere and her bare pink mouth glimmers up at Renee all the more honestly.

“Katie,” Renee whispers.

One red eyebrow wings upward and isn’t that just the wickedest turn-on, too.

All the chemicals still fizz between them.

No one makes her feel like this.

Kate shoves down her panties and plants her palms on either side of Renee. Her biceps flexing, she holds her body up with a lioness’s poise.

Adjusting, Renee slides her broad thigh between Kate’s until she makes contact. Slippery against her skin. 

Kate’s brow furrows and she reaches down to rub her clit between two fingers. And then she rides her thigh, slow, muscles clenching.

Renee feels her everywhere. Palm on her insane abs, thumb caressing below her navel. Thumb digging into her hipbone to make her jerk and tremble. 

She feels her pleasure in her body, and it’s her own.

Her eyes flutter open, so wide, green almost black. “Renee,” she sighs. Hooking her fingers into her mouth, she sucks Renee off of them and then bites down on her fingertips.

Holding her waist in both hands, Renee tumbles them over, joyful and wanting. Kate’s arms and legs wind around her. They tangle and cling and kiss like they can taste all the stories, all the small victories and failures they’ve missed from each other in just one meeting of mouths.

Kate’s chest rises and falls fast, hand stroking Renee’s back. Renee cups her breasts as she drops kisses down her neck, sternum. When she noses at ginger curls, Kate’s ankles lock at her back.

Renee laps a long stripe up the silky folds of her. “Could stay down here for hours,” she tells her, breaking off to suck a pink kiss into her inner thigh. 

Kate bites off a hiss and arches, insistent, and Renee’s not a tease. Goes back to sliding her tongue all over her. “You _have._ ” 

She has, she’s eaten her out til her jaw aches, need built up in her own belly--kept sweetly at bay with her head in Kate’s lap, hand just barely on herself, listening to her pant.

Her tongue tip skims her clit. Kate spasms. She digs her fingers in and lips at her more gently. Mouthful of her richness.

Kate’s fingers dive into Renee’s hair, just long enough for her to twist around slim, savage fingers and guide her down deep.

Hand dipping, she pushes two fingers in her easy, thumb on her clit, tongue dancing all around, working her up and up. This, she knows well. She knows how she loves it when she crooks her fingers and kisses her clit. How she likes Renee to hum against her. To lift her head and lick her wet mouth because this is getting Renee off as hard as Kate. 

Pushing her against the headboard, she uses her new leverage to work her fast with her hand, mouthing around her quick fingers.

Kate clamps her head between her thighs and _comes._

Body snapping taut, sagging loose. 

She hugs Renee’s head to her until she can barely breathe and God, if this is the way Renee goes, this is the way she _goes_.

Every time she makes her shatter, she almost can’t believe it.

“Wow,” Kate huffs, and Renee laughs with her entire body, forehead dropping to her hip. Fondly, Kate ruffles up her hair. Gesture so familiar, her throat balls up like paper. “Did you learn a couple things or did I just forget?”

“Whichever option gives me more credit.” Renee sits up some and strokes Kate’s stomach with her knuckles. She finally meets Kate’s eyes again.

Kate smiles. Not one harsh line in it. “You know what I want?” Renee’s transfixed. “I want to be inside you.” Her hand fetches right up her pelvis and how could she do anything but scramble backwards and let her at it.

Her fingers encircle Renee’s ankle. She tongues a stripe up her thigh and breathes on her skin to chill it. Renee can barely shiver before her warmth mouth swallows her up, traps her clit for a white second before she has mercy.

Three fingers fill her. Renee fights not to shout. Curls her toes hard into cheap sheets. Tips her head back with the feeling of being stretched so good, and she catches herself just before she dents the plaster.

Kate’s fingers have always been incredible, and she bounces her hips on them, mouth open, she can’t get enough. 

Once, just once they used a strap-on. She remembers the harness around Kate’s curves, the power she felt in her thrusts, Kate’s hand branding the middle of her back. 

She branded her everywhere. It sears her still.

“I don’t want this to stop,” Kate whispers in her ear, breasts brushing Renee’s. “I don’t want to walk out of here in the morning and have this be over.”

Of course she picks now to say this. Conditioning by orgasm, maybe. But Kate doesn’t have to make Renee come to get what she wants. “Doesn’t have to be,” Renee says.

That must be what she wants, because she gives her that Batwoman smirk and twists her hand and there’s pressure on her clit just fucking right. 

Sparks flare under her skin.

Kate stokes her brighter and hotter--and--and--

When the world spins in the right direction again, Renee keeps her eyes closed. 

Her cheeks are damp, though her hand didn’t hurt at all. No, that’s not what it’s about. 

Fumbling for Kate’s sticky wrist, she kisses the center of her palm. “It was never over, Kate. Not for me.”

 

Before, that would just be the start of the night for them. 

Back then, they’d make each other come so many times they lost count.

After their first round, Kate would wander off and come back with a bottle of something too foul for a girl with her kind of money. They’d pass it between themselves before they tumbled tipsily into the sheets again, grinding and licking, dirty and delicious. 

In the morning, Renee would feel like her insides had been scooped out, and not just because she was bent over the toilet.

There were moments between them, yes, moments of something _real,_ something that made her heart find new shapes. 

Then they would get scared. Hide in the bottom of a bottle, in one bed but miles apart.

Things are different now.

She’s boneless now, lying face-down on the squeaky mattress. Sated, not quite sleepy yet. It’s a good place to be.

Kate’s cheek rests between her shoulder-blades. Her fingers find scars she knows and scars she doesn’t. “We should get brunch tomorrow.”

“Brunch?” Renee snorts into her pillow. She’s kind of itchy, but she doesn’t want to shift and dislodge her. “What do you think I am?”

Kate crinkles her nose up against Renee’s skin so she can feel it. “A lesbian.”

Renee muffles her laugh, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. “What gave you the first clue, _detective?”_ she mocks. “The fingering or the eating out?”

“Actually, it was the hair.”

“Says Little Miss Standard Issue.” Renee works her shoulder and slumps anew in the mattress, sighing. “Fine. Brunch. But nowhere frilly.”

“No frills.” Kate yawns. Renee kind of wishes she could have seen it. She has the _cutest_ yawn (unlike her sneeze, which could wake the dead). 

She’s not quite relaxed yet. Neither is Kate. People like her and Kate, they’re always a little more on edge than most. They’re just beginning to ease into each other, and that’s good enough. “‘Night, Kate.”

Kate’s fingers lace with hers. “‘Night, Ren.” A squeeze like she’s swearing on something.

And Renee believes her.


End file.
